


Keeping Him Alive

by saphearra



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John Watson Needs A Hug, M/M, No Mary Morstan, Post-Reichenbach, Reichenbach Feels, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sherlock come back, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9428207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphearra/pseuds/saphearra
Summary: John tries to deal with the pain of Sherlock dying until he decides he can't anymore. So he chooses to end it all until someone comes along who changes his mind.





	

John looked into the mirror for the 52th time that morning. His hair stuck up in every direction and his nose was runny and pink. His eyes were red and puffy, and he could feel the sweat dripping from his head down to his feet. Yet, he shivered as he huddled under his bedsheets suffocating himself amongst the quilts. He held his hands to his ears to muffle out the noise. He even squeezed his eyes shut to rid the picture. But he never forgot it. He never forgot _him._

He would see Sherlock's blue-green eyes sparkling in the lakes while he took long walks to clear his mind. He found his curly hair in the angry storm clouds and his frustrated, "I'm bored John," stomping during the loud thunderstorms. He could spot his perfect smile among the most charming stars, his deep voice in the midst of crowds, and his body mimicked by mannequins. John could even feel Sherlock’s breath against his skin during a soft breeze.

And amongst every dream he found Sherlock begin a nightmare at the top of St. Bart's.

And every night cried to himself until the sun began to crack into the sky.

John gripped his chest feeling his lungs burning as he quivered against the bed sheets. It had been over 2 and a half years since Sherlock jumped and left him. But John felt and _seen_ him jump every day and every night since, and it never stopped…

After lying in a pile of his own tears and sweat, he got up and wiped his eyes. He turned and walked to his drawer where he got out his jumper he knew Sherlock hated the least. He sniffed and smiled at it gently.

_I'm coming for you._

So John had finally made up his mind. He was going to join Sherlock. There was no more waiting in false lies and silly fantasies. He wasn't trying to find things to keep him alive anymore.

_It was him. Always him to keep me alive. All this time._

John knew eventually it would come to this. He waited long enough for some miracle or some sign or calling. _Anything_ _._ But Sherlock never came back. He never had arisen from the dead. And he never ever stopped jumping, and falling, and crashing, right in front of John's eyes.

John let another stream of guilt hit him and felt his breath get shaky.

 

He visited Sherlock's grave last night, just before he made up his mind to "join" him.

The graveyard was as dark as his heart and as bleak as his soul. He sat on the cold ground crying softly near the tombstone and told him he was sorry. He apologized for not being there when Sherlock needed him most. He was disgusted with himself for being the worst friend and he felt so stupid for not realizing how upset and awful Sherlock must have been to feel the need to die. John pleaded on his knees for Sherlock to not be upset with him. He begged Sherlock to be happy when he saw him. John hoped with all of him left that he would not be kicked away because he was sorry he let his friend face whatever he felt on his own.

Sherlock was absolutely brilliant. Not a fake, or a sham. He was a wonderful man with his flaws, and John loved every bit of it. Every bit of him. And Sherlock had never known.

He let the air escape his lungs slowly to steady his breath.

_It's time now._

 

 

John showered, slipped on his clothes, and checked the mirror one last time. His eyes appeared tired but his hair was fixed, his jumper clean, and his shirt ironed. He looked well enough to be reunited.

He walked out the door with a skip in his step, and didn't stop until he was where Sherlock had stood on top of that building, staring right into John's eyes saying goodbye.

But goodbye didn't have to mean forever.

He felt a single tear roll down his eye but he smiled. For heaven’s sake he even laughed. He almost forgot what happiness felt like as he spread his arms reaching towards the sky.

Looking over the edge, he took one step and—

"JOHN."

A long slender hand grabbed his wrist forcefully pulling John back. He stumbled and fell, but he just sat there confused with his back away from the man that stopped him. He knew that voice.

Turning around slowly he gazed at the figure in front of him.

"Sherlock?"

He looked as terrible as John felt. His eyes were bloodshot and visibly wrecked with tears. His hair was wiffy and he looked as if he hadn't eaten in years. Three years to be exact.

John stood abruptly and stepped back stumbling.

"Oh crap. I've gone completely loony."

Sherlock stepped forward grabbing the other man’s arms but John was wriggling out of the grasp.

"No John. It's really me. I'm sorry, just let me explain I-"

John held up a single finger, "No-o, no you don't you're just some figure of my consciousness trying to keep alive. No, I am doing this."

He tried stomping back towards the edge but Sherlock gripped him tighter.

"No you're not John, look at me."

He grabbed his face forcing John to stare into his eyes.

"It's me. John. It's me."

John tried to move his face but eventually he gave in. He stared into those eyes his missed so much and sobbed. He ripped himself from Sherlock's embrace and sunk to his knees feeling his whole body shut down.

Holding his head into his hands he muttered muffled words, "No. You died. I _saw_ it."

"No. John. It was a lie. I just. I can explain later."

Sherlock had moved onto the ground placing his arm around John's shoulder crying with him.

"I'm sorry John. I didn’t mean or want any of this to happen.”

"This isn't real. This isn't real."

Again, John removed himself from Sherlock’s side only to get up and scream, "THREE. Three years Sherlock."

And again, he started walking fast towards the edge, "No. You can't stop me. You're not really here and I am going to find you. I need to find you. The _real_ you."

John snapped his head back towards the other for one last look, "I need to tell you I'm sorry and that I love you and I miss you. I need the Sherlock I let die, not the one in my mind."

He shook his head hoping his consciousness would wipe away the figure he thought wasn't alive, "So get out of my head. Don't talk me out of this. Please leave me alone and let me do this."

Sherlock, who stood this whole time like a deer in headlights, got a hold of himself started to run, "No!"

John stepped over and let the air take him down.

"John!"

Sherlock pounced as he saw the only man he ever loved about to vanish from the ledge. He saw one foot go over and he screamed flinging half his body over the roof to catch him.

He snatched John's leg and held onto it with as much force as he could muster.

"You are not dying on me."

John was screaming and wailing like a small child, and wouldn’t stop squirming and wriggling.

It struck him with realization, pain, and anger that this man was _real_. And that the Sherlock who held onto to him, keeping him alive and from falling, wasn’t made up in his mind after all. He screamed some more.

His mind raced, _How it can't. He can't. No...Why...How?_

Below them people were gathering around looking at John's dangling body and Sherlock desperately clinging on to him. A woman started to scream, and police began to gather around the area.

Struggling, Sherlock began to pull back some more. He felt like he was pulling for ages, but his strength never faltered. He didn’t stop until he got John securely on the roof, and when he did he immediately wrapped his arms around John. Sherlock held him so tightly even as he felt John’s weak arms hitting him during soft cries.

Sherlock cried with him and rocked him back and forth until he heard a tiny voice mutter, "You're actually here. But...but how?"

John laid his head into Sherlock's chest continuously sobbing. Sherlock pulled back John's face and rubbed away his tears peering into his eyes. John wanted to move away from him but he didn't know how.

He whispered, "Sherlock. How could you. I _loved_ you. How could you leave me thinking you died? Was I that bad that had to abandon me like that?"

Sherlock's heart withered at the sound of John's croaking voice assuming he had done something wrong.

"John, no please. Don’t think that way. I never want to leave you, but I had to and you couldn’t know."

"Why couldn't I know? You mean everything to me, and it was hell with you gone."

"It was to protect you. Please, John. I know it was wrong, but listen I had to keep you safe."

He yelled, "Sherlock I lived in misery thinking I had let you die. Not understanding why. Sherlock..."

Sherlock tried to embrace him further but John pulled away. But he still let Sherlock's arm remain around his body.

"John, leaving was the hardest thing I had to do. I missed you so much. I couldn't do anything while I was away except get rid of Moriarty's henchmen so I could return to you… _You_ , John. You kept me going."

"You could've left a note, a signal..."

"I was afraid they'd kill you."

" _You_ almost killed me."

"John I'm sorry."

"Three years. And I loved you all this time. And the thought of you dying was slowly killing me."

"John, I'd always loved you. And not being able to be around you, and not knowing if you were still waiting for me, practically ended me."

John let out a relieving breath as he caught Sherlock’s eyes staring into his. He collapsed against the detective’s chest and wrapped his arms around the other’s body.

"I'm still so mad. I'm still so angry. But I just want to hold you right now."

They laid on the roof, bundled together, and legs intertwined. John's head rested in the crook of Sherlock's neck and his arms were placed gently around the other man's torso. Sherlock rubbed the smaller man’s arms and placed small kisses against his forehead.

“You die again; you better bring me with you.”

"I promise I'll never leave you again…I love you."

John moved his face so he could look the other right in the eye.

"I love you too."

Sherlock placed a hand on the other’s face as John leaned in for a soft kiss.

And he kept true to his promise.


End file.
